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I told myself that I wouldn’t get involved in this mess. But this tabloid thing changes everything. Because who does Inez have in her corner? Nobody.
Leaving her to fend for herself isn’t an option. I’ll do what it takes to protect her.
15
INEZ
When I hear Nolan awkwardly clear his throat from the doorway, I glance up from where I’m separating the laundry into piles.
“Uh, are we low on detergent?” he asks stiffly.
I bring my eyes to the shelf where three brand new bottles of his favorite laundry washing liquid sit. He’s also got a box of the powdered stuff as well as a huge jar of detergent pods.
Clearly, we’re not low on detergent and he knows it.
But Stella’s at school and this is the weird tango Nolan and I find ourselves engaged in each time we’re in the house alone.
I’ve been keeping my distance from him lately, and he’s been going out of his way to make conversation with me. He’s been doing that a lot over the past couple of days, actually. It would be cute if I weren’t still so angry with him.
“We’re good on detergent,” I say simply, then turn my attention to loading the washing machine.
He shuffles on his feet, lingering by the door a moment longer. “The detergent I use is ultra-mild. Stella had an allergic reaction to the fragranced stuff one time when she was a baby, so I’ve used a gentle option since then. But I can pick up the regular kind for you today when I go to the store.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I respond curtly. “I won’t be here much longer anyway.”
The second I say that, Nolan’s urgent footsteps barrel through the doorway. “What do you mean, you won’t be here much longer?”
I throw him a glance over my shoulder. “A few places became available for rent. I’ll be checking them out this week.”
I’m beginning to think it might be time for me to leave town, find an opportunity outside of Starlight Falls. I just need somewhere to stay until I make a final decision.
“Inez, you can’t go,” he declares. Like he’s the boss of me.
I turn and frown at him. “Nolan, I’ve been living out of my suitcase and taking advantage of your hospitality for weeks now. I’m really grateful for your help, but it’s becoming uncomfortable. I’m ready to stand on my own two feet again.”
And just like that, Nolan Brighton is having a mini-meltdown on me. “You’ve seen the tabloid article, haven’t you? Everyone in town is talking about it. Some guy is going around, digging up information on you. That could turn dangerous.”
“And that’s not your burden to bear,” I retort with a shrug, trying not to outwardly bristle at the reminder of the embarrassing tabloid story. “I’ll figure it out.” Besides, I doubt that reporter guy is dangerous. He’s just chasing a paycheck, eager to satisfy the reality show fans who are curious about where I ran off to.
“You’re being unreasonable. It’s not safe for you.”
“Newsflash, Brighton—this wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve found myself in an ‘iffy’ situation. You don’t have to rearrange your life for my sake. Thank you for letting me stay in your home but from here on out, I’ll figure it out.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I hold up a hand. “I’ll. Figure. It. Out.”
We have a momentary staredown and I stand my ground even as those magnetic blue eyes try to break me.
Staying angry with him is never an easy feat. It really doesn’t help that he’s wearing one of his sexy lumberjack shirts today. With the sleeves rolled up, revealing those sinewy forearms that are folded across his wide chest.
When he sees that this is a losing battle, Nolan turns on his heel and marches out with a huff.
I feel a sharp bite of disappointment in my gut. I know that I all but told him to leave me alone, but a part of me still wishes he’d put up more of a fight.
Gosh—I hate the part of me that aches for someone to fight for me. I’m a grown woman. Shouldn’t I be stronger than this?
When my clothes are washed and dried, I throw in a load for Stella and Nolan. It’s the least I can do while I’m living under their roof and eating up their food for free. As the washing machine does it’s thing, I take my clean clothes and head back to the home office.
I sit cross-legged on the couch, folding my laundry and listening to the ding-ding-ding of my phone. Those emails just keep coming in.
I really should leave. I should hop on the next train and leave this town. But something is holding me back and I don’t want to admit to myself what that something is.
